


“Can I get a Diet Coke?”

by Call_Me_Tears



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Also sorry I suck at tags, Alternate Universe - GTA, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, GTA AU, Honestly this was for english and it was supposed to be 5k words, I probably only needed like two but oh well, Jeremy and Matt are Highschool friends, Jeremy owns a bar, M/M, Ryan's a little shit, Shifty Larry is here too btw, Sometimes things that are longer are worse, Vagabond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18928081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Tears/pseuds/Call_Me_Tears
Summary: “Can I get a Diet Coke?”Jeremy looks up from his busy work, trying to keep himself entertained and awake with no one around. He smiles at the man sitting in front of him. “Of course. Anything in that?” He asks, and the man shakes his head.“No thanks…” He sounds about as tired as he looks, and honestly, Jeremy couldn't blame him. It was two in the morning and anyone up this late was either crazy, or crazy busy. Tonight, Jeremy was the latter.





	“Can I get a Diet Coke?”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this originally was for English, and it was only supposed to be 5k words, but I got carried away, and now here we are. I really hope you like it. It came from a simple idea of Jeremy owning a bar, and Ryan becoming a regular that then became almost all of AH and a mention of Cow Chop XD Anyways, please please please leave a comment! I want to write more AH stuff, but only if people like it <3
> 
> P.S. Fun game! Find the scene I hate the most! :D ( _Sarcasm_ )

“Can I get a Diet Coke?” 

Jeremy looks up from his busy work, trying to keep himself entertained and awake with no one around. He smiles at the man sitting in front of him. “Of course. Anything in that?” He asks, and the man shakes his head. 

“No thanks…” He sounds about as tired as he looks, and honestly, Jeremy couldn't blame him. It was two in the morning and anyone up this late was either crazy, or crazy busy. Tonight, Jeremy was the latter. 

“Alright. One Diet Coke, nothing in it. Comin’ right up!” He says with fake enthusiasm, making a terrible joke. The man huffs out a laugh, and Jeremy smiles. 

He quickly pours the drink and slides the glass over to the man, who smoothly picks it up and takes a long swig of it. They sit in silence as the man chugs the drink, and Jeremy leans forwards on the bar, resting his elbows on it. He watches the man as he drinks, smiling as he finishes the glass and slides it back over to Jeremy who picks it up and fills it again. 

“Hard day?” Jeremy asks, and the man scoffs. 

“That's an understatement,” he replies taking a swig of his new drink. “Just, mostly busy all day today. This is the first time I've gotten to just… relax.” 

Jeremy smiles and picks up a glass and a rag, just sort of giving himself something to do. He starts to clean the glass as he says, “Well, usually at this time of night no one's here, so talking to you gives me something to do.” 

The man smiles. “I'll keep that in mind…” 

He finishes off his drink and pushes the glass once again towards Jeremy but this time, he takes out a bill, and puts it on the counter. 

Jeremy picks it up, his eyebrows shooting up to hairline as he looks at the amount. “Uh Sir, we don't take hundreds here. I can't give you change…” Jeremy trails off, looking into the man's eyes. 

“Don't worry about it. Keep the change,” he says, and he turns, walking towards the door. 

“What's your name!” Jeremy calls after him. 

He stops and looks over his shoulder with a smirk. “Ryan,” and with that, he walks out the door, leaving Jeremy stunned with a hundred dollar bill in his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Ryan had come back a few times, always just getting two drinks, chatting a bit about what Jeremy’s been up to, and then leaving. It was the same every time, and Jeremy was starting to wonder about him, what he'd been up to, what his job was, why he was out every night at three in the morning. 

But he never got to ask. The man was always gone before Jeremy had time to, and when he returned, he always wanted to know what Jeremy had been up to. 

Jeremy’s just starting to close up when the door opens and Ryan walks in. Jeremy goes behind the bar and gets the glass of Diet Coke, sliding it over to the blonde man, who takes and starts to down it. 

He finishes quickly and slides the empty glass back to Jeremy, who takes it and refills it. “Anything new happen since I've been gone?” Ryan asks, a small smile on his face. 

“Last time you were here was last night, which isn't a lot of time,” Jeremy says back and Ryan shrugs, grabbing the full glass again and taking a sip. “You know, I have no idea what you do.”

Ryan stops and sets the glass down, looking at Jeremy. “You don’t want to know that.”

Jeremy leans forwards on the bar. “I think I do though.”

Ryan’s eyes narrow, and he leans forwards as well, their noses less than an inch from touching. He lets out a low growl, making Jeremy leans back slightly, but he just squints his eyes and stands his ground. Ryan lets out a low, “Please don’t ask questions I won’t answer.” 

“And what if I do?” Jeremy asks, just taunting the intimidating man in front of him. 

Instead of an answer, Ryan lets out a growl again, and pitched forwards, smashing his lips with Jeremy’s, grabbing the shorter man’s face, and Jeremy wraps his hands around Ryan's wrists. He doesn't pull them away though, he just leans into the kiss. Ryan pulls away, biting Jeremy's lip harshly, drawing blood. Ryan smirks, a little bit of Jeremy's blood on his lips. He takes a thumb and wipes a bit of the blood away, mostly smearing it on Jeremy’s cheek and chin, with a predatory grin on his face. 

Jeremy rushes around the counter and throws himself at Ryan, who picks him up by the waist. The 5’4” man becomes taller as Ryan takes him into the back, placing him on a table. 

They spend the rest of the evening together, until about four AM. Jeremy goes to ask him a question after everything's done, and Ryan just leaves. 

Jeremy doesn't see him the next night.

 

* * *

 

It was a week until Jeremy saw Ryan again. For the first two nights Jeremy stayed open extra late, but when he didn't show, Jeremy stopped, kind of forgetting about him for the rest of the week. He talked with the regulars and gave drinks to the newcomers, chatted with the locals and gave directions to the tourists. He all but forgot about the mysterious man who came in a week ago. That didn’t mean when he did think about him his mind was still. The exact opposite really. He couldn’t help but think of everything he could have done wrong, everything he said or did. What did I do? Did I say something? Was I… bad? It was weird thinking about him. He never really had before, thought about a man after only one night, but Ryan was mysterious. After their night together Jeremy couldn't help but think how lonely he was after Ryan left abruptly. These thoughts were the main ones that went through his restless mind at night before he went to sleep, but mostly, he didn’t really care, didn’t think about it, didn’t think about  _ him _ . 

That is, until tonight, Jeremy's just about to lock up when he hears the front door open and close. He doesn't look up as he wipes down the bar a final time. “I'm sorry, we're just closing up,” he says, turning around. He almost drops the rag when he sees who it is. “Oh. Hello again.” 

The man from before, Ryan, Jeremy remembers, stands there looking worse than he did before with a black eye, split lip, his blonde hair caked in dark red blood. He moves out of the way, and pulls out a chair, rushing behind the bar to quickly pour a drink for him. He sits down and Jeremy slides him the drink. 

“You look…” Jeremy says, starting to say something, but stops trying to find the words. 

“Bad?” Ryan offers, taking a sip of his Diet Coke. 

“I was gonna say 'like shit’ but yeah, bad works too,” Jeremy says and Ryan chuckles.

Jeremy starts stacking the glasses underneath the bar, giving himself something to do in the comfortable silence. Ryan finishes the drink, and Jeremy takes the empty glass, refiling it. 

“So, what kind of 'job’ is that… bloody?” Jeremy asks. 

Ryan looks up at Jeremy and glares at him, taking a quick swig of his Diet Coke. “None of your business,” he says, and Jeremy puts his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Hey, I'm just wondering. Don't want you bringing your business to mine.” Jeremy chuckles, and Ryan cracks a small smile at that. “But seriously, am I going to have to worry about you getting more injured the next time?” 

“What makes you think there will be a next time?” Ryan asks seriously, taking the last drink of his Diet Coke before pulling out another hundred dollar bill and slamming it on the table. 

He gets up and Jeremy silently takes the bill. Ryan gives a two-fingered salute as he walks out. “Goodbye, whatever you name is,” he says, walking through the door. 

“I-it's Jeremy!” He calls out just as the door slams shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Jeremy doesn’t know why he keeps thinking about the mysterious man who always seemed to come at three in the morning, but as the weeks progress and he doesn’t come back, just like he promised, Jeremy just stops waiting. He closes up shop, goes home, sleeps until two PM, gets up, and goes to work. It’s the same thing he’s been doing over and over since he got the bar, but there’s a part of him that’s missing something. It’s weird, though he supposes he’s felt that with all his other regulars, but this mysterious Ryan is something else. He feels like he needs to know more, though he’s afraid he already knows too much. The blood in his hair and the black and blue bruise around his eye, he could tell he’d been in a fight, and Jeremy was sure the blood was not Ryan’s.  

Jeremy's just cleaning the counter for the night, a glass in his right hand, when the door slams open so forcefully he's afraid it would shatter the glass. He looks up suddenly and sees someone he hoped to never come across. 

“The Vagabond…” He whispers. 

The air was knocked out of his lungs like he was just punched in the stomach, and his head is spinning. He takes a deep breath in, and he feels his face go pale. His palms are sweaty, and he drops the glass bottle in his hands. It falls to the floor and smashes on his floor. That noise snaps his out of his reverie. “What the fuck do The Fakes want?” 

The Vagabond was a fearsome man, with a black skull mask and less than charming disposition. He always had no less than five knives on him, two handguns, and a shotgun. No one knew where he was able to keep it. Jeremy used to watch The Fakes on the news every week. They were the most terrifying and powerful gang around. If you got a visit from them, you weren't long for this world. 

The Vagabond stands in Jeremy's doorway, his left hand on his side, and the black leather of his jacket is shiny with something that Jeremy could only assume was blood. The Vagabond looked hurt, but Jeremy would bet his bar most of the blood on him wasn't his. 

He uses his right hand and reaches up, and Jeremy grabs the shotgun from underneath the bar and holds it up, pointing it at The Vagabond. He puts his hand up in a surrender, and slowly goes for his black mask. Jeremy just watches as he grabs the rubber mask in his hands, and yanks it off his head. 

Jeremy stands there stunned, his shotgun now barely being held aloft as Jeremy stares open-mouthed at the man in front of him. He sets the gun on the bar and walks around the bar, standing in front of it just to stare. 

“Ryan…” he whispers. 

“Jeremy. I need your back room.”

 

* * *

 

Jeremy didn't know why he agreed to this. He could have just said no, turned Ryan away at the door, made him search for a different place, but Jeremy didn't. He couldn't. He brought him into the back where Ryan told him the plan. 

 

_ “Okay, the police followed me most of the way, so they're probably checking everything in the blocks surrounding us. I need you to go out there and pretend I’m not here,” Ryan explained, sitting on one of the tables in the back room.  _

_ “Why didn’t you go to a safe house? Don’t the Fakes have like… a million of them?” Jeremy asked.  _

_ Ryan shook his head. “We split up, each one of us going to one. I was the only one without a safe house. Someone got injured so two people are already in one, they don’t need a third.”  _

_ Jeremy sighed and put his hand on his head. He felt a headache coming on. “Okay. Fine. But you owe me.”  _

_ Ryan put his hands up in mock surrender. “Sure. Whatever you want. Now, do you have a first aid kit and a bathroom I can use?” _

 

Jeremy goes around the bar as he thinks, looking at it, when he realizes there’s a bloody handprint on it from where Ryan leaned on it. Jeremy curses and throws the rag across the room, gritting his teeth in frustration. He looks over at the bar and remembers the broken glass. He darts behind the bar once again and leans down, picking up a large, particularly nasty looking piece. He clenches it in his hand, cursing himself for even thinking of doing this. He feels the tear in his skin the glass makes, the warm feeling that spreads over his palm. He looks down and sees the blood dripping onto the floor, mixing with the shattered glass. He drops the shard, letting it fall with the original pieces. 

He rushes over to the wall and grabs a clean cloth, tying it around his hand in a pseudo-truncate. He grabs a brush and a dustpan and goes back over to glass just at the front doors open up, and Jeremy freezes, trying to think of something, anything to say. 

“Hello? Anyone here?” Jeremy hears someone shout from the door. 

He winces, before standing up, looking at the cops with a not very convincing smile on his face. “Hey there,” he says, kicking himself for the shakiness in voice. 

“Is this your bar?” the other one says. He’s about as tall as the man who spoke first, and they look similar as well, but instead of black hair he has platinum blonde and his skin is lighter as well. 

Jeremy nods, holding onto the pan tighter. He could hear the glass shaking from his iron grip, and his knuckles were ghostly white. He could feel the beads of sweat pooling at his hairline and under his jaw, his hot face getting a moment's reprieve from how flushed it was underneath his skin. His stomach was tossing and turning, doing acrobatic flips as if it were a trapeze artist, and Jeremy’s stomach was its first debut. He swallows, his throat feeling like a thousand needles were piercing his jugular, making him choke on the metal. 

“Well, Officer Diaz and I would like to take a look around, if that's okay,” The blonde says, and Jeremy just nods, going to talk but the words get caught in his throat.

The brunette, Officer Diaz, walks over, looking the bar over, quickly checking it out before his eyes narrow, and he walks quickly over to the bloody handprint. “What happened here? Officer Collins,” Officer Diaz says, waving the other cop over. 

Officer Collins walks over and inspects the blood as well, leaning down to get a closer look at it. “Blood.” 

Jeremy takes a step forwards, switching the pan to his non-hurt hand. “Ye-yeah!” He exclaims, trying to get the officer's attention, but neither one look up at him. “Some guy was getting rowdy, broke a few glasses. I uh… I cut my hand picking up the pieces,” Jeremy says, trying not to lie too much. The officers finally look up and Jeremy holds up his hand with the tourniquet and the other with the pan, shaking it a but for extra emphasis. 

Officer Diaz narrows his eyes, but Officer Collins leans over, whispering something to Officer Diaz. His expression deflates as he addresses Jeremy. “Sorry to bother you sir. We'll just be on our way.”

The two men quickly turn and leave, slamming the doors on the way out. Jeremy did  _ not  _ want to know the conversation they were having now, and he was glad he didn't. He had his own problems to worry about, like the murderer in his back room. He finishes cleaning up the rest of the glass and throwing it away. He storms into the back room, slamming the door shut. He leans back on it, putting his head in his hands, and he lets out a scream. 

“That sounded like it… went well,” Ryan says, but Jeremy doesn’t look up. He just keeps screaming. “Are you okay?” 

Jeremy finally looks up, stopping his yelling for just a moment, before he goes back to yelling, but this time there’s words. “GET THE FUCK OUT!” Jeremy doesn’t know if he really meant what he said, if he really did want Ryan, The Vagabond, to leave. But, he said it, and there was no going back. 

Ryan looks almost shocked, the black red and white face paint was half wiped off his face by this point, and the red made it look like he just murdered someone. He probably did. Jeremy didn’t know why he looked shocked. He should have known Jeremy wasn’t going to let him stay. But when Jeremy looks closer into Ryan’s cold, steel blue eyes, he doesn’t see shock, but pity. 

Ryan grabs his things and walks towards the back door, opening it up with ease. He turns to looks over his shoulder and says, “Thank you,” before turning and walking out the door, it softy closing behind him. 

The only thing Jeremy can think about is how the hell he opened the door, because Jeremy had locked it an hour earlier.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks had passed since Jeremy found out Ryan was the Vagabond. In those two weeks, in the between hours of work and sleep, he had done some research of his own. He looked up everything he could about the Vagabond, what he did and where he was from. There wasn’t a lot on him, most of the stuff he already knew, but there were some things Jeremy didn’t know before. There was a string of murders exactly three months before The Vagabond showed up in town, in Austin Texas. Four people, four murderers were killed, matching the Vagabond’s MO. Dismembered, disemboweled, thoroughly disassembled bodies, limbs strewn across the room, blood spattering the walls, knives embedded in the ceiling and floor. The limbs were sawed off, one by one, and most of the carnage inflicted was when the victims were still alive. 

Jeremy was disgusted, the amount of torture Ryan would have done, all those poor people. But the more Jeremy thought about it, the weeks he had to think, he started to side with Ryan. The murdered were bad men, they abused their wives, killed them and their children. The men were terrible people, and the more Jeremy thought about it, the less frightened he was. Well, that was a lie. He was still frightened, he just understood. 

Jeremy was cleaning up, putting away the bar stools, sweeping up. After the night, he did a full top to bottom disinfecting of the place. He kept it spotless from then on. If anyone made a mess, it was immediately cleaned up. 

Jeremy smiles as he looks at his handiwork, hanging up the broom. He turns to go into the back when he hears the bell at the top of the door ring. He walks over behind the bar, moving the stools over so he has a sight line to the door. He places his hand on his shotgun and watches. The door opens, and someone steps through. Jeremy grabs the shotgun and points it at the door. 

“Ryan,” Jeremy growls, placing his finger on the trigger. Ryan puts his hands up in surrender. The bag he was holding drops to the floor with a loud clunk, and Jeremy looks at it, pointing with his gun. “Kick that away.” Ryan does as asked, his hands still in the air. “What do you want?”

Ryan sighs and looks at Jeremy with sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry I have to ask this but, I need your help.” 

Jeremy tightens his grip on the gun. “Oh? What kind of help?” Jeremy knew whatever he wanted, he would say no. The last thing he did was the worst experience of his life, and he’s been shot, twice. 

Ryan looks up at Jeremy and says plainly, “I need you to blow up a bank…” 

Jeremy looks at him, dumbfounded that he would even ask that. “What the fuck! Why do you fucking need me! You want  _ me _ to blow up a fucking Bank? Are you out of your mind!” Jeremy screams lowering the gun, now holding onto it with one hand while he gestures wildly with the other. 

Ryan sighs and lowers his hands. “I told them you’d say no. They said at any cost,” Ryan explains. 

Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Oh, are you going to shoot me? Stab me? Dismember me? Huh? What is it!” 

Ryan pulls back in disgust. “What? No! I’m not going to hurt you! Contrary to popular belief I actually can like people,” Ryan sneers. 

“Well what else would I expect! You kill people for a living!” 

“I  _ used to _ kill people for a living. Now they’re just cannon fodder.”

Jeremy stops, looking at Ryan like he’s crazy, because, well, he is. “Do you hear yourself? ‘ _ Cannon fodder _ ?’ Do people just not mean anything to you? Their lives? These are good people!” 

Ryan scoffs and rolls his eyes. “These people aren’t good! The whole police force is corrupt! You know those officers who came in that night? You ever wonder why they never came back? All it took was a few thousand dollars and a threat to their families to make them pliable! These people are corrupt! They will do anything for a few bucks!” 

“That doesn’t matter! Those are lives!” 

“What about the people who killed your parents? Are they good? Do they deserve to live?”

Jeremy freezes at the mention of his parents. He’s never told  _ anyone _ about them, much less a man he knew for only a few months. Jeremy swings the gun up, placing it against his shoulder, gripping it so tight his knuckles start to hurt. His finger is placed on the trigger and he growls out in a low tone, “How the  _ fuck _ do you know that?” 

Ryan gives a wry smile. He hit a nerve and Jeremy wasn’t happy. “It wasn’t hard. A man who works all night, sleeps all day, he doesn’t have anyone in his life. He doesn’t talk about his family or anyone close to him. He’s alone, his parents are dead, his bar is all he has. Taking into account your age and name it was easy from there.”

“How do you know my name, or even my age?” 

“You left your wallet in the back room. Don’t worry, I left the cash,” Ryan quips, but Jeremy doesn’t laugh, he just narrows his eyes even more. 

“What makes you think I want to help you?” He asks, changing the subject. 

Ryan shrugs. “I didn’t, but we need someone.” 

“Isn’t  _ Mogar _ your demo guy or some shit?” Jeremy’s voice is dripping venom, tempting Ryan to say something wrong just so he can lash out and poison him. 

“He’s on crowd control. Our last job didn’t go so well…” Ryan trails off, looking at the floor. He snaps his head back up and looks at Jeremy, his eyes pleading and a sweet smile on his face. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is we need someone to blow the vault. It’s the easiest job.” 

Jeremy sighs, kicking himself for even contemplating doing it. He said it was going to be easy, and bank jobs get tons of money. He could do a lot with that money. He’s never done a bank job, never anything that serious. Sure, he robbed small convenience stores when he was younger and was in a few gang fights, but nothing like a bank job. Jeremy was scared, but he needed the money. He always needed money, loathe as he was to admit it. 

Jeremy drops the gun and sighs. “What do you need me to do?” Ryan grins.

 

* * *

 

To say Jeremy was nervous was an understatement. This was the day he was meeting the Fakes, and he was sure someone was going to get shot today. He just hoped it wasn’t him. From what he heard, the Fakes were a motley crew of six, now five, guys. Their sniper, Brown Man, left for New York, going off to do some work alone. The only reason why he knew this was because they hit three convenience stores that day and all flew jets, spelling out, ‘ _ Goodbye Brown Boy _ ’ in the sky. 

The rest of the members were almost as fearsome as The Vagabond. Almost. There was the Golden Boy, known for his bright golden blonde hair, gold-rimmed sunglasses, and the gold chains and necklaces that hung around his neck, as well as the ten golden rings, one for every finger. He was scary in his own right, a great shot up close preferring to stick to shotguns and SMGs. Everyone knows when he’s coming, he’s not exactly hard to miss. After the Golden Boy was Mogar, the demolitions expert. Decked out in a brown leather jacket with a screaming wolf on the back and a temper to boot, Jeremy did  _ not  _ want to get on his bad side. It’s said that a gang crossed them, and he blew up their whole compound in a single night. He mainly sticks with explosives, but he’s not a bad shot either. Then there was Pattillo, the only female in the group, but that shouldn’t count her out. She was as fierce as any of them, and as the driver she got them out of scrape after scrape. Her driving skills were ones to beat, and whenever they had their races through the streets, she was almost always the winner. Last but definitely not least was Ramsey, the leader of the Fakes. He organized every hit, took all the jobs, bought the cars and penthouses for them to live in, and no one could catch him. He had every police officer in the city in his back pocket, and no one wanted to go off the payroll to bring him in. Last time they brought Golden Boy in, the precinct was blown to pieces, and a pure gold jet landed in the middle of the street to pick everyone up. No one wants that to happen again. 

There were the people Jeremy was meeting with today, and he was scared shitless at the thought. 

He puts the finishing touches on his outfit and walks out of the bar to where his ride is waiting for him. He sees Ryan decked out in full Vagabond gear and saunters up to him, trying to play it cool.

Ryan looks him up and down, brow raised. “You look  _ ridiculous _ .” He says plainly.

Jeremy grins and spins with a flourish, showing it off. “What, you don't like it,” He slips into a goofy southern accent and tips his hat, “Pardner?” 

He winks but it’s hidden behind his dark shades. Besides the blindingly white cowboy hat on his head, he’s got an absurd orange shirt, bright yellow pants, light purple shoes, and to top it all off, an intense purple blazer. Any sort of stain would instantly ruin it, and the dry cleaning bills were going to be massive.  He looks obnoxious, but that’s what he was going for. 

Ryan rolls his eyes at him, but he’s smiling nonetheless. He casually slides onto the idling chopper motorcycle and waves Jeremy over, who climbs on behind. “Hold on tight,” is all Ryan says before he puts on his mask and pulls away from the curb with a roar.

Jeremy has barely any time to grab onto Ryan, but he doesn't fall off. He quickly places a hand on his head, keeping his hat from flying away.

They make their way through the city, the skyscrapers rushing past them becoming blurs in the peripherals, weaving through the mid-day traffic, making cars slam on their breaks, maybe even causing an accident or two. Jeremy didn’t care either way. He was worried about the Fakes more than anything, including car crashes. 

He was being friendly with Ryan right now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still mad. He didn’t need to know the personal lives of everyone who came through his bar, even though he pretty much did, but Ryan came into his bar covered in blood and brought the police after him. Jeremy was still a little pissed. He was squeezing Ryan so hard his fingers hurt, and he knew it might leave a bruise. Jeremy knew that half of it was because he was worried about the fakes, but the other half was because he wanted to hurt Ryan in some way. Jeremy was nothing if not petty. 

They pull up in front of a large, expensive apartment building, a place Jeremy could only dream of living in. Ryan puts in the building code and walks in, going to the elevators that were already down there and open. He walks in and Jeremy runs after him, not wanting to be left behind. He walks in and Ryan immediately covers the keypad and puts in what looks to be a four digit code, and push the penthouse button. The doors close and the elevator shoots up. 

“Not exactly subtle is it?” Jeremy muses and Ryan chuckles. 

“Subtly isn’t the point.” 

They spend the rest of the ride in silence, the corny elevator music playing in the background. Eventually the elevator stops and the two men step out into a lavish penthouse. It’s decked out in the best looking furniture money could buy. It was modern, with a huge wall of windows overlooking the entire city. It was a gorgeous view, the glittering skyscrapers like big white diamonds that littered the skyline. Jeremy was in awe of the place, the only nice apartments he’s ever seen were the ones he used to steal from. 

His reverie was broken however when a man in a very nice suit came out. He knew this to be Ramsey, the leader. His handlebar mustache and tattoo-covered hands giving that away. “Ah. You must be him. What’s your name?” Ramsey asks, going over to the connected kitchen and grabbing a Diet Coke from the fridge. 

Jeremy freezes. He thought of everything but the name. Before Ryan can answer for him, Jeremy blurts out. “Rimmy Tim. Friends call me Tim.” Jeremy kicks himself for not thinking of it before. Rimmy Tim, what a stupid name. But it was his name now. 

“Hm. Interesting name. I guess it goes with your outfit though,” Ramsey says, and holds out the diet coke to Jeremy. He hesitantly takes it, and crack it open, taking a sip cautiously. When he doesn’t keel over dead, he decides it’s safe to drink and takes a bigger gulp this time. Ramsey laughs and turns around towards the way he came from. “Come on. The others want to meet you. We have much to discuss.” 

Jeremy follows behind, looking back at the stone cold mask that Ryan was wearing, but he could see the warm, hopeful look in Ryan’s eyes. He smiles, a little nervous, before turning back and dropping the smile, instead going for a more menacing look to mask himself. They walk into the room and Jeremy’s finally face to face with the fakes. Ryan goes and joins his fellow gang members on the other side of the room and suddenly everyone’s staring at him, and he’s alone. 

“This is Rimmy Tim. He’s going to help us,” Ramsey says casually as he walks to the front of the room, a map of the city hangs on a whiteboard behind him. 

“What kind of a name is Rimmy Tim?” The brunette, Mogar, asks, the permanent scowl that seemed to rest on his face is even more menacing in person. Jeremy holds his ground though, not saying anything, not making a face, not giving anything away. 

“Micool! Stop it!” The Golden Boy says, his heavy British accent lacing his voice in a sugary sweet way. 

“Gavin! Are you a fucking idiot! Don’t fucking say our names!” Mogar, or Michael as Jermey now knew him as, yells, getting in the Golden Boy, Gavin’s, face. 

Gavin shrinks away at that, muttering a quiet, “Sorry Micool,” letting out a small laugh. 

Jeremy narrows his eyes at Michael as Pattillo speaks. “Geoff, is this really a good idea? Bringing someone new in?” 

Ramsey, Geoff, waves her off. “It doesn’t matter now, does it Jack?” Geoff asks and Pattillo, Jack, sighs, knowing he’s right. “Now, let’s rehash for our newbie. Shall we?” 

Everyone nods, and just nods with them, not really knowing what to do.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy sighs as he walks into the bank, his garish outfit not even turning heads. In this city, wearing something normal would make you stick out more than something that was normally head turning. He walks over to one of the marble tables in the middle of the room, grabbing a pamphlet from a holder, inspecting it closely, reading every line but not taking in any information. He was stalling, he knew that, but he just needed a little extra time. 

“ _ I thought you said he was a professional? _ ” Jeremy hears Michael say, annoyance in his voice, audible over the comms. Jeremy places a hand on his earlobe, just touching it for a moment, not liking the feeling of it in there. It was like an earbud, but worse. 

There's a grunt over the line and Ryan says in a deep voice, “ _ Never said professional. _ ” Jeremy smiles at that, glad to know at least  _ someone’s _ on his side. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his pounding heart, the feeling of it trying to escape his ribcage was very uncomfortable. But the more he breathed, the more he thought, and the more he thought, the harder his heart beat. There was no winning and Jeremy would just have to go for it. 

Jeremy walks up to the counter and smiles at a woman who was working away at a large computer. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail and her grey pantsuit is perfectly pressed. She’s important in the bank, a manager or overseer. The woman looks up at him and smiles. “Oh hello! I’m sorry but if you want to get help you need to go to one of the counters,” She says in a pleasant tone. 

Jeremy swallows but looks down, his large white hat covering his eyes as he says darkly, “I’m not here for help.” He reaches behind and takes out his pistol, holding it on the counter with one hand. “Put your hands up.” The smile drops from her face immediately, and fear takes over her eyes. She does as told, putting her hands up quickly.

Jeremy points the gun into the air, and fires a shot. 

Chaos erupts from around the back. Jeremy hears Geoff scream into the comm, “ _ GO GO GO _ ,” and that’s when he hears the front doors slam open. Everyone who was running to get out freezes as the Fakes walk through the door. They stand there, all five of them with machine guns mounted on their shoulders, watching as everyone tries to run away. 

“GET ON THE GROUND!” Michael screams, firing a few more shots into the air. Jeremy could hear the bullet-proof glass ceiling start to crack. Everyone in the bank immediately falls to the ground, their palms and faces flat against the linoleum floors. 

Jeremy walks over to Ryan who’s carrying a large bag. Jeremy grabs it and rips it open, taking out four blocks of C4 out of the seventeen that are in there and handing them to Michael. Michael goes over to the ATMs and starts to arm them. Jeremy picks up the bag and runs to the back, kicking down the locked door that stood in his way. He quickly makes his way towards the heavy metal door and takes out a few of the C4, placing it around the door, doing exactly what Michael told him to do. He grabs the bag and picks it up, taking it out of the room. He hides behind the wall and blows the C4. The loud explosion leaves his ears ringing, and the large door falls forwards, cracking the floor as it lands. Jeremy steps out and picks out the bag, rushing inside. He dumps the rest of the C4 on the ground and grabs the four other bags that were stuffed into the bottom. Jeremy starts shoving armfuls of cash unceremoniously into them, filling up the first bag before moving onto the second. 

“Need some help?” Jeremy looks up and sees Ryan standing there, his gun in his hands. Jeremy nods and he walks over, grabbing a bag, stuffing it as well. Jeremy finishes his second just as Ryan finishes his first. 

“I’ll take these two. Get as much as you can in that one as you can,” Jeremy says, and Ryan gives a silent nod of understanding as Jeremy hands him the detonator for the remaining C4 he dumped on the floor. 

He walks back out to the main room, a bag on each shoulder, and his pistol in his hands. He walks over to Michael and hands him a bag, looking around at the crowd. They were all on the floor, most lying face down, but some were sitting up with their hands over their heads, and all were either crying, or sitting stone-faced, trying not to show how scared they were. 

“Vagabond’s got the rest. Take this one as well, give it to Pattillo. I’ll take Vagabond’s second bag,” Jeremy says, handing the other one to Michael as well, not even waiting for a reply before running into the back just in time to see Ryan finishing up with his second bag. Jeremy goes for the C4, placing it around the room and arming it. 

Ryan walks over and hands Jermey a bag just as he’s finished setting up. He grabs the bag and Ryan takes out the detonator, holding it with two fingers and shaking it in front of Jeremy. He takes it from Ryan and walks out the door, Ryan following closely behind. Jeremy walks out in time to see Michael handing the bag of cash to Jack. 

“Mogar!” Jeremy yells out, and he throws the detonator to Michael, who catches it with one hand. He grins and everyone starts running for the exit. Gavin lets off another shot into the glass ceiling, and as everyone moves towards the doors, the skylight above them breaks, shattered glass spilling to the ground, raining down on the hostages. He hears a shout, and a large explosion, and screams coming from the hostages, but he doesn’t have enough time to look back and see what happened as Jeremy hears police sirens on the distance and everyone leaves the bank. Ryan hops onto his bike and Jeremy throws himself over as well. Ryan turns on the bike and they speed off just as Jeremy looks behind and sees Gavin with Geoff on one bike and Michael with Jack on another. 

Ryan speeds through the city streets, passing cars and police vehicles alike, all going towards the bank. They get a few officers on their tail as they turn a corner, taking a shortcut through an alley. Ryan reaches into his jacket and holds something out behind himself for Jeremy. “Take this!” He yells over the wind and through the mask, his voice muffled and hard to make out. 

Jeremy takes it and turns the SMG around in his hands as he turns around and points it at the street. They get out of the alley and take a sharp left. The police car that was just sat there immediately turns on, and its sirens start blaring, its lights flashing red and blue as it chases the two men through the city streets. Jeremy tightens his grip and squeezes the trigger. His hands are blown back from the force and the gunshots are so loud Jeremy can hear his ears ringing over the rush of wind. A few of the bullets from the large spray manage to hit the car, but they don’t do much damage, mostly just leaving a few bullet holes in the side of the white car. Jeremy grunts and grabs onto Ryan a little tighter as his grip on the gun compresses. He squints, looking at one of the front tires, and holds down the trigger. Bullets go everywhere, but a few of them manage to hit the tire. 

There’s a loud popping sound, and the car swerves to the side, creating a roadblock in the middle of the road, making the cars unable to get past. Jeremy grins and turns around, shaking from the adrenaline, and he lets out a shout as the police car fades away into the distance as they start to leave the city. 

“Nice shot!” Ryan shouts, his mask muffling his words. 

Jeremy just grins and holds onto the gun as they leave the city limits, his arm tightening around Ryan’s middle as the city streets and skyscrapers fall away into the coast, the ocean a sparkling blue as the sun sets on the horizon. Jeremy just watches the boats on the horizon, small ant-like dots that move back and forth. 

Ryan pulls off the highway and stops at a part of the road that’s usually reserved for sightseeing or taking a dip in the water below. Jeremy wouldn’t recommend doing that though. The rocks down there were slippery enough that anyone who tried would probably just end up dead. 

Jeremy hops off the bike, and Ryan quickly follows, taking off his duffle bag and placing it on the seat where he just was, and Jeremy mimics him. Ryan stands, looking out over the horizon, and takes off his mask, showing Jeremy the red, black, and white face paint that made a chill run up his spine. He shakes it out and Ryan looks down for a moment. It was quiet on the small bit of land where they stood, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks, seagulls, and the ever-present sound of traffic in the distance was all there was. Jeremy’s heart was beating so hard he was afraid Ryan could hear it. All the sound around him falls away as the roaring of blood in his ears gets louder and louder the closer her moves towards Ryan, who he feels like is looking into his very soul. His blue eyes are cold, dead, and if Jeremy didn’t know any better, he would think he’s getting murdered. But Jeremy  _ did _ know better, and he could see something underneath the surface of the coldness. It was something strong, something  _ animalistic _ . 

That’s when Ryan grabs the back of his head and bends down, smashing their lips together. Jeremy stands there motionless for a moment before throwing his arms around Ryan’s neck, and biting down on his bottom lip. Ryan pulls back harshly and glares at Jeremy. “The fuck was that for?” He accuses. 

Jeremy shrugs and smiles, licking his lips as he says plainly, “Payback. For you doing it to me…” 

Ryan looks at Jeremy with squinted eyes, before shrugging and attacking his lips once again.

 

* * *

 

That night, Ryan took Jeremy home, leaving him, hat and all, in front of his apartment about $20,000 richer. The money in his fist is heavy, and Jeremy almost feels bad for even just holding it. The way Ryan basically just dumped him on the curb and handed him the money, he felt dirty. He felt like a common prostitute. And he wanted more. He didn’t want to stop at the bank. 

The first job he got on his own was easy money. Walk in, kill someone, and get out. The job went smoothly, his hat and glasses hiding who he was the whole time. The man he had to kill was in a restaurant, and a simple bullet to the back of the skull was quick, a simple kill, and in the panic and commotion, he was able to escape without anyone noticing. 

After that first job, more people started contacting him, and he came into contact with the two officers who he met that day in his bar, the ones looking for Ryan. Officer Diaz and Officer Collins were nice men, new to the force, and inseparable from the moment they met. They didn’t meet Jeremy while on the job, but they came back into the bar without their uniforms, grabbing a drink or two before going home for the night. Jeremy learned all about them, when they worked, and what open cases they were working on. They were working on a few of his jobs, some successful and some not, but no one was able to see who was under the hat and glasses, the man disappearing into the crowd before anyone could follow him. He was regarded as an expert, and Jeremy could not be more proud of himself. 

That is, until he was given a job to a bank manager who was embezzling funds out of a very rich company, whose CEO was as corrupt as they come. Whoever hired him had some sort of stake in the company because he wanted the man dead, and he threatened to kill Jeremy if the man stayed alive. 

That is why Jeremy was kneeling on a fire escape, a sniper rifle in his hands, the sight pointed right at the front doors. After his first few jobs, Jeremy found that using a sniper rifle was best. It kept him out of sight and at such a distance from his target that he could get away without anyone noticing. Jeremy’s hands shift on the rifle as he tries to get the cramps out of them. He’s been standing there for so long he could barely stand anymore, but he had to wait. He knew that the man got out of work from around 2:30 to 4:30, so that’s what he was doing, waiting, watching until the man left. Jeremy had good intel that he was there today, and that he hadn’t left, so he waited, and waited, and waited. When 5:30 rolled around, Jeremy almost wanted to leave, to put his gun away and try again a second time, did he see something. The man was walking out of the bank, just as someone was walking in. A man in a brown leather jacket and another with bright golden hair and gold chains around his throat walk into the open doors of the bank. 

Jeremy shakes his head and takes aim at the man, pulling the trigger and watching his head explode. He looks over a few feet to the left to see that very familiar skull mask, one he hadn’t seen in at least a month or two. Jeremy wasn’t really keeping track and all the blood left his face as he saw Ryan look into the sight of his rifle, and stare right past his eyes into his soul. Jeremy stares back, frozen, before he sees Ryan turn to Geoff and say something, and Geoff presses his fingers to his ear. Jeremy lowers the rifle and quickly sits back on his heels, taking it apart and placing it in the briefcase. He flips the locks and stuffs the case into his black backpack, swinging it over his shoulder. He slips down the rusty fire escape, his black-gloved hands keeping the rust away from his skin as he rode the ladder down to the ground, his feet hitting the black pavement of the alley. He adjusts the straps on his backpack, turns tail, and runs the opposite direction of the bank. 

He spills out into a busy street, filled with people trying to get home after a day of work, not having noticed the gunshot or any sort of noise that would disturb them from their daily lives. With how much crime was in this city, it wasn’t any wonder why they just kept moving. Most of them probably heard that every night as they fell asleep. Jeremy slows down, speed walking through the crowd, his hands gripping onto his backpack straps. He just continues walking, not looking behind as he gets to a crosswalk, and a group of people who are just standing there, waiting for the light to turn so they can go. Jeremy bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for the light to turn, and for him to be able to go. Just as the walk sign lights up, Jeremy takes a single step before someone grabs his wrist and holds him in place. Looking back, he wishes he didn’t. 

“Jeremy,” Ryan says in a low, threatening tone. His eyes look like he wants to murder Jeremy, and Jeremy knows he will if he has to. 

He swallows and says, “Ryan.” His voice is shaking slightly, but he manages not to stutter when he speaks, thankful that he didn’t. 

Ryan’s ice blue eyes glare into his own sunglass-covered ones, his eyes wide, though Ryan wouldn’t be able to see them through the mirrored aviators. Ryan just grows low at Jeremy, “Didn’t I make it clear you shouldn’t have contact with us anymore?” 

Jeremy nods slowly, reaching back behind him to grab the knife he had stashed in the back of his pants. He grips the handle and swallows again. “I-It was a job! I didn’t know you would be there!” He exclaims. 

Ryan pulls him in, going to speak, but Jeremy, fearing for his life, whips the large bowie knife out, and plunges it into Ryan’s arm, directly in between his elbow and wrist. The man lets go and howls in pain, the cry ear-piercing, and Jeremy just bolts. He runs onto the crosswalk, dodging between the fast cars, almost getting hit a few times, but he doesn’t care, he just runs as fast as he can, not daring to look back. When he thinks he’s made it far enough, he turns around, and meets Ryan’s eyes. He could see the man is seething, and he just turns around, and runs away, hearing a lengthy, deafening scream echo through the streets.

 

* * *

 

After that night, Jeremy didn’t take another job, just focusing on his bar. He realized he’d kind of been neglecting it, closing early and opening late just for some extra jobs. He loved his bar, but he also loved his new work. He knew he couldn’t have both, but he wanted it. The next few weeks he spends with his bar, with the regulars and one-timers and tourists, giving directions or just a friendly drink to those passing through, giving discounts to regulars, and to groups who he knew were going to be spending a lot of money. 

He spent time with the cops, who every time they came in seemed to drink more and have looser lips. He got tips about criminals that were popping up and gangs that were getting more popular. He also found out some things about the fakes, what they were doing, grateful that they seemed to be planning for a larger heist, and thus didn’t have any free time. Jeremy was glad that the Vagabond didn’t have time to murder him for what he did. 

He did think about moving after that, selling his bar, but he just couldn’t do it. It meant too much for him. 

Jeremy finishes up his clean up for the night, going towards the back, making sure everything was in place before he left for the night, when he hears the bell on front door ring. Jeremy freezes, expecting a bullet in his head before he turns around, but after a second of waiting, nothing happens. He slowly turns around and his eyes widen as he sees someone in the doorway he thought he’d never see again. 

“Matt Bragg?” Jeremy asks aloud, the panting an in the doorway smiles sheepishly and pushes his hand into his long, brown hair. The blonde streak he gave himself in Junior year was still there, and stood out amongst his deep brown hair. “Hey Jeremy.”

Jeremy walks over, taking a few chairs off the tables and setting them on the floor. He gestures for Matt to sit down, and he does. “What are you doing here Matt?” Jeremy asks as he sits down opposite his high school best friend. 

“I need your help man. There’s something going on, and I need your help with it.” Matt doesn’t go into detail, and Jeremy squints. 

“What kind of help?” He asks, suspicious. Matt wasn’t explaining anything, and Jeremy needed to know what he could be getting himself into. 

Matt sighs and places a hand on his forehead. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you need to agree to help me. I can’t tell you, unless you help me.”

Jeremy sighs, hating himself as the words spill out of his mouth. “Okay. Fine.” 

Matt grins and takes off his backpack. “Thank you so much man! I don’t think I could have done this without you!” He exclaims and Jeremy rolls his eyes. Matt places a laptop on the table, shielding Jeremy’s view of it. “Okay, basically what I need you to do is, go in, shoot some people, and get out.” 

Jeremy squints at him. “I’m sorry, but why do you think I’d agree to this?”

Matt just grins. “You already have.” Jeremy scoffs but Matt just continues. “And-and, because I’ve seen you doing jobs like this recently.” 

Jeremy sits up straight at that. He was so good at hiding himself, making himself unknown to everyone who came across him, so how could Matt Bragg, a man he’s barely seen in seven years, come in and know exactly what he was doing? 

“The bank? Where you shot the guy?” Matt offers, waiting to see if Jeremy says anything as he types something into his computer, clicking a few times before he turns the computer around so Jeremy can see the man’s head explode on his old friend’s screen. “They hired me to find out who did it, and to make their security tighter, thinking the shot came from one of the gangs. It didn’t obviously, and I was able to hack into the backup security cam of the building across the street. Most of the time, it’s off. But just last week, someone broke into an apartment, and the building almost got sued for not having the camera on. I deleted the footage, but not before taking a copy for myself…” Matt turns the computer back around and clicks a few more times, before turning it around again. Jeremy unmistakably saw himself firing the rifle, and packing it away, before leaving the sight of the camera. 

“How-how did you know it was me?” Jeremy asks. 

Matt shrugs. “Whenever we played video games together, you would always dress your characters up in orange and purple, and when I found out you were calling yourself, ‘Rimmy Tim’, well, that was the nail in the coffin right there. You always name your characters some form of variation on that. It was pretty easy. I’ve been keeping track of you, and found out you’ve been keeping up a bar right here in the middle of the city, and decided to come and find you.”

Jeremy couldn’t believe it. Dopey, nerdy, quiet Matt is a hacker who found out Jeremy kills people, and now needs him to kill more people. What is his life? Jeremy sighs and motions for Matt to continue. “If I’m going to do this, you need to tell me what it is I’m going to be  _ doing _ .” 

“Alright, alright. There’s a gang on the south side of the city, I think they’re calling themselves ‘ _ Cow Chop _ ’. I was hired by the Fakes to get them in line,” Matt explains. 

“Of course it’s the fucking Fakes,” Jeremy mumbles to himself. “Why can’t I just fucking get away from them…” 

“What?” Matt asks, but Jeremy waves him off. Matt just shrugs. “Anyways, I need you to meet up with some of their side members, they call themselves the ‘B-Team’, to take out a few of the Cow Chop guys. No one important, just some low-level guys. Can you do that?” 

“Do I really have a choice?” Jeremy asks. 

Matt just shrugs against with an easy smile. “No, not really.”

 

* * *

 

Jeremy pulls down on his cowboy hat, not really knowing what to do with the restless energy that overtook him at this moment. He didn’t know if anyone from the Fakes’ main cast would be there today, waiting to take him by the neck and wring him out for ruining their heist. Jeremy just thinks back to the bank heist he helped with, how that got him into this mess in the first place. Well, no. What really got him into this mess in the first place was Ryan coming into his bar that night at two in the morning, and Jeremy wondering if he was crazy or crazy busy. It felt like a lifetime ago, and, technically, it was. That was when Jeremy lead a different life, a life of good morals and threatening people with shotguns when they got too rowdy, but never actually hurting anyone. It was different now. His whole life was different. It was nothing like he ever imagined. 

Jeremy’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears footsteps walking down the empty street. Three in the morning in the city was oddly quiet, and Jeremy wasn’t a big fan. He looks up and sees three people walking down the street towards him, the streetlights casting an ominous glow over their heads. As they step in and out of the light, Jeremy notices a few preliminary things about them. There’s at least one man and one woman, and someone that Jeremy couldn’t tell. They had long hair and were bigger than most, but as they step closer, Jeremy can see they’re not a woman at all. But his eyes weren’t on the long-haired man, but on someone else. 

His eyes widen as he whispers to himself, “Officer Collins.” 

Officer Collins and the two other people walk over to him, and stands up from hi leaning position on his motorbike, trying not to give away anything, trying not to give away that he knows the police officer walking towards him. He crosses his arms and Officer Collins comes to a stop a few feet from Jeremy, just staring at him for a moment, silence so thick the tension in the air can’t even compare. The silence is broken when Officer Collins talks. “You who was sent?” He asks. Jeremy just nods. “Not exactly prepared for a stealth mission.” 

“Neither my contact or I were given the details of this mission. How was I supposed to know what to expect?” Jeremy asks, raising an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses. He knew it was pointless to wear them at night, actually detrimental, but Jeremy wasn’t about to take them off in front of his best customer. 

The woman leans over to Officer Collins and whispers, “You know, he’s got a point.”

Officer Collins just growls out a low, “Shut up Lindsay.” 

She shrugs. “Okay, that’s fair.” 

The man next to Lindsay doesn’t say anything, he just stares straight ahead. 

“What’s your name anyways?” Officer Collins asks. 

“Rimmy Tim. My friends call me Tim. You can call me Rimmy.” Lindsay chuckles and Officer Collins elbows her. 

“Well,  _ Rimmy _ , I’m Trevor,” Officer Collins points to himself, “This is Lindsay,” then to the woman, “and that… that is Shifty Larry.”

“Shifty Larry?” Jeremy asks. 

Lindsay leans forwards and whispers, “Have you seen him? He’s shifty as fuck…”

Jeremy just nods, looking over at Larry to see he hasn’t moved a muscle.

 

* * *

 

The four of them sneak past the guards that were patrolling the perimeter of the docks. Well, ‘patrolling’ was too generous of a term for the two men who were sitting and eating donuts right out of the box. They weren’t even looking when Jeremy and the three Fakes just waltzed right in. They quickly duck behind a few crates as they see some of the men waiting around a docked boat, watching something being unloaded. On the other side of them Jeremy saw three men standing there, just watching. A man with bright blonde hair and pale skin in a bright white tracksuit and Adidas, a man with long brown hair with darker skin than the first in a t-shirt and jeans, and a man with short brown hair and a pretty well-groomed beard in a very nice looking blue suit, the top three buttons of his white dress shirt unbuttoned. The three of them looked so wildly different from each other, Jeremy couldn’t believe they were part of the same crew. 

Jeremy pops his head up for a moment, looking around at the guards, before kneeling back down. Lindsay looks up over the crate as Jeremy speaks quietly. “Okay. There’s five guards. If we take them out quietly one by on-”

Jeremy doesn’t even get to finish his sentence as an explosion sounds out through the shipyard. “Sorry!” Lindsay exclaims, and Jeremy joins her in looking over the docks where he sees the five guards are now gone, having disappeared from view. 

“Or I guess do that. Good job Lindsay,” Jeremy says with a laugh. Trevor and Larry join them in standing behind the crates and Jeremy gets out his SMG, the one Ryan gave him. He still hadn’t gotten rid of it. 

The rest of the men that were still alive look over at the now standing group of four, and Lindsay just throws another grenade shouting at the top of her lungs, “This is from the Fakes, mutha fucka!” She cackles as the explosion goes off, and it doesn’t hit anyone, but she looks insane in the dim light.

“What the fuck Lindsay!” Trevor yells, but he laughs along. They were all having fun, laughing, spraying bullets left and right, lobbing grenades, and just screaming obscenities as people are gunned down. The ones trying to get away are let go, and the three men, the ones who stood out, they got away. Jeremy wasn't too worried about them. He was just having fun. Shifty Larry even had a small smile for most of the fight. 

By the time they go back to Jeremy's bike, the three of them are laughing at some stupid joke Lindsay told, and Larry still has that same small smile on his face. Jeremy shifts the hat on his head as he walks over to his bike. 

“That was some good work out there Rimmy!” Trevor says and Jeremy scoffs. 

“Please. Tim is fine,” he says. Trevor just grins. 

“We'll get in contact with your hacker friend! There might be some more work for you yet,” Lindsay says, and Jeremy just nods. 

He turns and gets on his motorbike. As he turns it on, he barely hears Trevor whisper to Larry, “Does he look familiar to you?” Larry just shrugs as Jeremy rides off, his hand on his head to keep his hat from flying off.

 

* * *

 

Throughout the next few weeks, Jeremy continued working jobs for the Fakes, which all went through Matt. He helped with setup, cleanouts, and just inflicting general terror on the other gangs in the area, letting them know who's boss. He also worked a lot more closely with Trevor and Lindsay, and on the third job that month, he learned that Officer Diaz, who he know knew as Alfredo, was also working for the Fakes now. 

It was weird seeing them. They still came into the bar, and he was always thankful when both of them were on the job. That meant he didn't need to worry about them asking questions. Matt also started working there, manning the nights Jeremy was out on a job. He was doing a good job as well, a quick learner. He also knew everything that went on during the jobs, and Jeremy made sure to give him every detail he possibly could. He knew all about Alfredo and Trevor, and Lindsay, and everything that went on with the Vagabond. 

The one thing Jeremy didn't tell him was the Vagabond's real name. Jeremy was respectful enough to do that. 

Still, Jeremy hadn't seen the Vagabond since he fucked up their Bank heist and stabbed Ryan in the arm. He's been worried about what might happen, what Ryan's going to eventually do to him. But, he doesn't come back, he doesn't see or speak to him, and the only time Jeremy ever sees him is on the news in his signature black skull mask. That didn't mean Jeremy wouldn't freeze every time a blonde came into his bar. 

But most of the time, it was just a normal day, like this one, and Matt would somehow ruin it, like right now.

Jeremy tops off some guy's beer, handing it to him before wiping off his hands. He leans back against the bar when Matt comes walking out of the back room looking worried. He walks over to Jeremy and leans into him, whispering, “I need to talk to you…” 

Jeremy looks around, looking for someone to help, but he remembers the only person who could help is Matt. “Can this wait 'till later?” Jeremy shoots back. 

Matt shakes his head. “No. I need to tell you, now.” 

Jeremy sighs. “Can't you tell me now? They're all too drunk to remember anyways.” It was true, there were only about five people in the bar and all of them were piss drunk. It was about midnight, and these were the guys who came in to drink their problems away. 

“Fine fine,” he relents, going into the back room for a moment before coming out with his laptop. He places it on the bar unceremoniously and points forcefully at the screen. 

Jeremy squints at it. “I don't understand.” 

“Look here!” Matt says, pressing harder into the computer. Jeremy just squints and moves closer, not really getting what Matt is pointing at. Matt scoffs and rolls his eyes. “It says, ‘ _ Hello Axialmatt- _ ’”

“Wait.  _ Axialmatt _ ?” Jeremy asks, cutting him off. 

“Yeah it's my screen name,” Matt explains and Jeremy just laughs. “Whatever. Anyways… ‘ _ Hello Axialmatt. I work got Mr. Ramsey. I hear that there is someone in your employ that has met Mr. Ramsey before. Mr. Ramsey has expressed interest in meeting him again. Please send him to the address listed below, and Mr. Ramsey will have a talk with him. Thank you for the work you do for us. ~Fakes _ .’”

Jeremy leans back and looks around at the bar, and finds that in that time someone left and the other four are in various stages of drunkenness. Two are passed out on their tables, their drinks half finished, still in their hands. He sighs and grabs his rag, tugging at it and playing with it, giving him something to do. “I-I guess I have to go see him…” Jeremy says, nervous. 

Matt nods. “He's going to ask you to join the fakes,” Matt says. Jeremy goes to ask how he knows, but Matt holds up a hand. “They don't send letters like this to just anyone. So you have to decide. Are you in or are you out.” 

Jeremy knows his answer before Matt even asks the question. He didn't know why he did, but his guy was telling him it was the right answer. It was telling him he made the right choice. It was telling him to go for it. 

“I'm in.”

 

* * *

 

Jeremy stands nervously at the door of the apartment building, his hands behind his back as he rocks back and forth on his heels and the balls of his feet. Jeremy was nervous to go back into the Penthouse, and for a second, he almost walked away. But he didn't. He buzzed up to Geoff, and is now waiting. Jeremy thinks about how he should turn around, leave, leave the city, and just go back to Boston. 

But, it's too late when Geoff opens the door. 

“Rimmy! Welcome! Boy am I glad to see you!” Geoff exclaims, opening the door wide. Jeremy walks in and Geoff throws an arm around Jeremy's shoulders, his tattooed hand resting on his arm. Geoff steers him towards the elevator as he says, “The others are going to be thrilled. I knew you couldn't say no.” Jeremy doesn't say anything, just watches Geoff hobble into the elevator, the significantly taller man having to bend down to just hold his arm. He puts in the four-digit code directly in front of Jeremy, 6608, before pushing the penthouse button. They weren't scared of him knowing anymore. 

The shoot up the building, not stopping on any other floors, the shitty elevator music still playing softly in the background. It only takes a few awkward seconds of silence and music before Geoff stands up and just takes to placing his hands on Jeremy's shoulders. The doors open and Geoff all but pushes him out into the expansive living room, where he sees Gavin and Michael playing Mario Kart on the large TV in the middle of the room. 

“OH YOU FUCK! COME ON!” Michael screams, some at the TV, but mostly at Gavin, who's just shrieking and making weird bird noises. “HAHA FUCK YOU, YOU DUMB BITCH!” Jeremy watches as Gavin gets a blue shell to the head. Michael just laughs as he passes Gavin into first, and finishes the race with Gavin just barely finishing fourth. 

“Wot! That's rubbish!” He exclaims, slamming his controller down on the ground. It didn't break, but Jeremy's sure Gavin could break a controller if he  _ really _ wanted too. 

“Hey, you two idiots! Over here!” Geoff calls out to them. The turn and look, and Michael rolls his eyes as Gavin gets up excitedly, rushing over to Jeremy and Geoff. 

“Rimmy!” Gavin says, delighted at the sight of his orange and purple friend. “Why are you here?” 

Jeremy opens his mouth, but Geoff cuts him off. “He is joining our crew.” 

Michael walks up, arms crossed and asks, “What, like the B-Team?” 

Geoff grins and shakes his head. “Nope! He's joining us!” Geoff explains, thrilled. “Jack! Vaga! Get out here!” He shouts towards the back of the penthouse, towards the one place Jeremy hadn't been yet. The open floor plan didn't leave much to the imagination, but all the rooms were closed off from the rest of it. 

“You fucking didn't,” Michael warns, pointing an angry finger at Geoff. “You didn't fucking consult us you cunt!” 

Gavin raises a hand and says meekly, “Well I think it's a bloody brilliant idea!” 

“Shut up Gavin! Just shut up!” Michael yells, and Gavin shrinks back a bit, but he doesn't look hurt, he has a huge smile on his face. 

Jeremy watches as Jack walks out of the back room, and smiles kindly when she spots Jeremy. “Oh hello again.” Jeremy just waves. Jack walks over, that same kind smile still on her face. Jeremy smiles back and her and holds out a hand. “Well, it's good to properly meet you.” Jeremy feels happy, surrounded by the people who would soon become his family, his closest allies. 

That is until Ryan walks out. 

They lock eyes, and Jeremy's smile immediately drops. Ryan grabs his arm, where Jeremy stabbed him, and he could see the fury in his eyes already, and Jeremy hadn't said a word since he walked into the building. Soon, Ryan's storming over to Jeremy, and he grabs him by the throat, squeezing and lifting him off the ground with the arm that got stabbed. Jeremy kicks around, trying to get out, clawing at Ryan's hand and wrist. He could feel his chest tightening, begging for air. His ears were pounding with the blood rushing through them, and the ringing was drowning out any noise that was being made around him. His face was buzzing from the loss of blood to his head, and he now couldn’t feel his hands. His vision starts tunneling, and Jeremy stops struggling when he feels the hand release from his throat, and he falls to the ground. The loud slap Jeremy makes when he hits the floor sends his head reeling, and he grabs at his throat as he gasps for air. His body feels tight, like it’s burning, and he just struggles to breathe. That’s when the sound comes back. 

“-FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Jeremy hears Geoff scream at Ryan. “YOU CAN’T JUST FUCKING DO THAT!” 

Ryan growls, and Jeremy blinks, the stars in his vision slowly subsiding and the focus coming back to him. He sees Geoff standing in front of him protectively, Ryan bearing down on him. Jeremy looks around and sees Jack’s kind face looking down at him, worry etched onto her features, her bright orange hair framing her face. She places a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezes. Jeremy reaches up and grabs her wrist, sitting up slowly. 

Ryan glares at Geoff and says threateningly to him, “He’s not one of us. And he never will be,” and he turns around and leaves the way he came. 

Geoff sighs and turns around, crouching in front of Jeremy. “So… sorry about that,” he offers. “Did not know he was gonna to that… but! If it makes you feel better, that’s the most I’ve ever heard him speak at once!” 

Jack scoffs and rolls her eyes, and places her hands on Jeremy’s shoulders and then under his arms. “Alright. Come on. Let’s get you to medbay. Caleb can help you feel better, and then we’ll get you a room,” She says, and Jeremy smiles as he slowly gets up. She looks down the hall and glares at it, saying, “And I’ll make sure it’s furthest from his.” 

Jeremy just smiles gratefully.

 

* * *

 

In the span of two weeks, Jeremy felt himself starting to fit in more with the rest of the crew. He met the rest of the B-Team, Caleb the medic helped him with his throat, and any other wounds he acquired, and Steffie who dealt with the legal and social aspects of the crew, paying off the officers, and recruiting everyone into it. The more he saw Trevor and Alfredo however, the more worried he was that they would find out who he was. 

He wasn’t just getting along with the B-Team though. Gavin and Jack had both been kind to him since the beginning, but as the weeks progressed, Michael became less and less hostile. It all started when Gavin and Michael were playing Halo, and Jeremy sat on the back of the couch just watching them play. Gavin offered to give Jeremy a turn, and waved him over to their spot on the floor in front of the TV, and Michael refused to let him. Gavin insisted, and Jeremy sat down. Jeremy won that game. Now, every time Gavin invites him to play, Michael doesn’t say anything against it. In their last game, Michael even laughed along to some of the jokes Jeremy made. He was starting to open them up. 

He hadn’t talked to Ryan though at all. During all their heists, Geoff would pair him up with everyone else, just not Ryan. He was grateful for that, seeing as all Ryan could do was glare at him and grab his arm whenever they pass in the halls. 

Jeremy still worked at his bar, though much less frequently now. Matt mostly took over, but Jeremy was talking with a few people to help keep it running smoothly because Matt as offered a position in the Fakes’ B-Team as well. Mainly he was looking at a girl named Fiona, who used to live in New York, but grew up in France. But when he did go back, he usually stayed up late, taking his time to clean up before going back to the Penthouse. 

It was one of those late nights, the dim lights in the elevator and the soft music putting him to sleep. It was about three AM, and Jeremy was just glad he didn’t have anything planned for tomorrow. Well, he was planning to use the day for just sleep. The elevator dings and the doors slide open, and Jeremy walks into the quiet penthouse, everyone asleep. He walks past the living room, and he walks into the kitchen. He goes to the fridge and grabs a beer, opening it on the expensive marble counters. He turns around and leans on it, and takes a sip of his beef, sighing in relief as he feels the cool alcoholic beverage pool in his stomach. That’s when he hears a throat clear, and Jeremy’s eyes wrench open. 

Sitting in front of him at the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the penthouse, was Ryan, mask off and with no face paint, drinking a chilled Diet Coke. Jeremy just stands there, looking Ryan in the face. All this time, he’s seen him with either his mask on, or covered in face paint. Seeing him without them, well he was a lot less scary than he probably wanted people to think. 

“Hello,” Jeremy manages to say. 

“Hello,” Ryan shoots back. 

Jeremy awkwardly holds the beer and hesitantly points at Ryan’s right arm. “I-I’m sorry. A-about your arm I mean!” Jeremy mental kicks himself for being so awkward. 

Ryan lets go of his Diet Coke and flexes it, closing his hand into a fist, and then releasing it. “It’s pretty much back to normal now,” he says flippantly. 

Jeremy unconsciously places a hand on his throat, touching where the bruises used to be, and he swallows. “Yeah… Yeah…” Jeremy trails off. 

Ryan takes a sip of his beer. “Yeah. Sorry about that by the way.” Ryan looks up at Jeremy, setting his coke down with a clink. “How are you feeling?” 

Jeremy shrugs. “Better, if that counts for anything.”

Ryan chuckles. “Well, again, sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Jeremy smiles and downs the rest of his beer in one go, drinking over half of it in one breath. He sets the empty glass in the sink and walks towards the hall, stopping before he turns the corner. He turns around and frowns, trying to think of something to say, but all he says is, “Thanks, for not killing me,” and he turns the corner, leaving Ryan alone in the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how it could all go so wrong. The past few weeks have been amazing, and this one thing fucked it all up. He had been getting along with everyone, Michael stopped hating him, and Ryan for the most part left him alone. Their late night talks got more and more frequent, but most of the time, they weren’t even talking. They would just sit in silence until Jeremy finished his beer and went off to bed. They weren’t what they were before, but they were at least cordial with each other. Jeremy was just glad Ryan wasn’t trying to kill him anymore. 

Today though, the heist was supposed to be easy. They would hit four corner stores, all at the same time. Get in, get out. Easy. Jeremy just didn’t account for the teller having a shotgun. The extra minute it took to kill the guy was time that should not have been wasted. He could hear the shouting of Geoff in his earpiece as the clerk fires off shotgun shot after shotgun shot. Jeremy finally got a shot off on him, which sends him to the ground. Jeremy rushes out of the store, only to be met by seven police officers pointing guns at him. He slowly dropped his own gun and the bag on the ground, and put his hands in the air. 

And that is why he is currently sitting in a police interrogation room, his hat and glasses still on his face, and his hands cuffed to the table. He sits in the dimly lit room, looking out over his sunglasses, before just looking straight at the two-way mirror, hoping there was someone he could glare at. He sits in the room for a few minutes, just sitting there and thinking, when the door opens. Jeremy looks up and sees Alfredo and Trevor walking in. 

“Well, nice to meet you…” Alfredo trails off, pretending like he doesn’t know Jeremy's name. 

“Rimmy Tim,” Jeremy growls out. 

Trevor barks out a laugh. “Ha! What kind of fuckin’ name is that?” Trevor asks. Jeremy doesn’t say anything. Trevor just laughs quietly, as he and Alfredo move closer. Jeremy resigns himself to his fate. “Let’s see what’s under there, shall we?” 

Trevor reaches forwards and takes the hat off his head, and pulls his glasses off his face. They just stand there in shock, and Jeremy tilts his head up, looking the two men in the eyes. It’s Alfredo who speaks first. “Jeremy?” He whispers. Jeremy smirks at them. 

Before either of them can say anything, there’s a loud boom, and the building shakes. Trevor and Alfredo spring forwards and places the hat and glasses back on Jeremy's head. They unlock his handcuffs, and he stands up. Trevor grabs his wrists, pretending to lead him out as gunfire erupts outside the door. There’s a few seconds where nothing happens, and Trevor pushes the door open, feigning protecting him and transferring him. Trevor leans in and whispers, “We need to talk about this later. Now turn around and punch us in the face.” 

Jeremy doesn’t protest, and just turns around and punches both of them in the face. Not hard, but hard enough to be believable. Then, he turns tail and runs. He bursts through the fire that was now in the middle of the station, and sprints over the shattered glass of the front doors that now littered the inside. He bursts through the smoke into the bright streets, and he sees a helicopter in front of him, landed on the ground. He sees Ryan standing just outside of it, spraying bullets left and right, taking down any cop that dared to come close. He looks over, the black skull mask, now a dull grey in the sunlight, grinning at him with bared teeth. 

“Rimmy! Come on!” Jeremy hears Michael yell, who’s also standing in the middle of the street. Jack is flying the chopper, Geoff in the passenger seat, and Gavin was in the back, staying in cover to do his shooting. Ryan and Michael weren’t so smart. Jeremy runs towards them, and Michael lets out a loud scream. “SHIT!” 

They all pile into the helicopter, and Jeremy takes a seat next to Ryan. Gavin immediately starts fussing over Michael, but Jeremy ignores it, instead choosing to turn towards Ryan and ask, “Why did you come get me? Trevor and Alfredo could have done it in a less… shooty way.” 

Ryan leans forwards and whispers to Jeremy, “You’re one of us. We’d do anything for one of our own.” Ryan pulls away, and even with his face covered, he could see in Ryan’s eyes he’s actually smiling.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy puts away the glasses on the shelf, the small tinkling of the glasses hitting each other just adding to the general noise of the bar. The low hum of music blankets the bar in a chill atmosphere. Jeremy fills up a few glasses with beer and places them on a tray. He picks it up, and places it on the bar, leaving it for now. The rag in his belt slips onto the floor, and Jeremy bends down to pick it up. When he comes back up. He hears a familiar voice. 

“Jeremy?” Jeremy looks up and sees Ryan sitting at the bar, a small smile on his face. “Can I get a drink?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” Jeremy says, picking up the tray. “Fiona!” He calls out to the woman tending the other end of the bar. “Take this to table four for me, will ya?” Fiona just nods and grabs it, walking away from them. Jeremy smiles and gets a large glass, filling it to the brim with Diet Coke. He slides it over to Ryan, who catches it, but not without managing to spill some. Ryan doesn’t look like he really cares as he reaches up, and takes a long drink from the glass. 

Ryan sets the glass down and says to Jeremy, “This place is looking…” Ryan says, trailing off. 

“Like shit?” Jeremy offers with a smile. 

Ryan chuckles. “I was going to say nice, but if you want me to say it looks like shit I can.” Jeremy just laughs, and Ryan joins him. “Seriously though. It looks really good. Like an old dive bar. It suits you.” 

Jeremy just smiles at him. “Oh, I talked with Trevor and Alfredo.” 

Ryan raises an eyebrow.”Were they mad?”

“Fuck yeah they were!” Jeremy exclaims with a laugh. Ryan laughs along with him. “But they understood. I don’t think they’re coming back here any time soon though.” Jeremy shrugs. 

Ryan just smiles at him as he finishes his drink. He sets the glass down gently on the table and looks up at Jeremy. “Can we start over? No talking about work, no asking for help with heists, no Vagabond. When I’m in this bar, I’m just Ryan Haywood, a man who only drinks Diet Coke and talks about his motorcycle.” 

Jeremy smiles. “Yeah. We can do that.”

Ryan smiles brightly at Jeremy and holds his hand out. “Well then. Hello. I’m Ryan Haywood.” 

Jeremy grabs his hand and shakes. “Hello Ryan. I’m Jeremy.”

Ryan grins as he puts his hand back, and he holds up the empty glass in front of him. 

“Can I get a Diet Coke?” 


End file.
